


Stark White Snow

by orphan_account



Series: Wrong, But so Right [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Anal, Anal Sex, Cold, Cuddle, Cuddles, Cuddling, Fluff, Frottage, Half-Sibling Incest, Huddling For Warmth, Jon doesn't go to the Wall, M/M, Robb convinced him not too, Smut, Winter, Wolf Furs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-15 15:03:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1309189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is the harshest winter Winterfell has seen in years and it is struggle to stay warm. Jon decides to join Robb as they did when they were children. Things get very warm, very quick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stark White Snow

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Jon and Robb story and I do hope it is good. Feedback is much appreciated.

Jon shivered beneath his furs. Cold had sunken into his bones and turned his blood to ice. No matter how many times he crossed his chambers to the fire and added another log, the cold still seemed to find him. No matter how many more furs he pulled on the bed, cold air still seeped in from somewhere. Jon sat up in bed, tugging a fur around himself and trying to warm up, knees in his chest, but, quicker than he had gotten warm, he was cold again.

Annoyance filled him and he recalled the last winter he lived. It had been long ago, as he grew up most of his life in the long summer. He remembered innocently crawling into Robb's bed, how they'd huddled together for warmth and found it in each others chests. Innocence had since been lost, now when he crawled into his bed, in the earliest hours of morning, it was for other reasons. They'd found other ways of heating the other up, each time had passed in a rushed flurry to find pleasure. Both had been too wound up and flustered the first time to be careful, leaving both of them sore and lying the next morning, blaming the cold for stiff joints and aching muscles.

He wrapped a fur around himself and crossed his chambers to the fire and attempted getting warmer. Jon watched the fire dance, remembering the way Robb had done the same after their first night. As he had made his way to the fire he groaned and grunted, his sweat slicked body holding the light and he tugged the fur tighter around his naked, goosepimpled form. He heaved a deep sigh and he looked, over his shoulder, to Jon, still laying naked and panting in bed. _This is wrong,_ he had said. _We shouldn't be doing this,_ he added as he walked back to the bed and laid back next to Jon and pulled him into a deep kiss.

And it had went from there, that first night birthing many other secret nights, that no one would ever know. Sometimes a side long glance from Catelyn made him think she knew, but she never revealed if she did or not. Each night was different, sometimes they would merely press and rub against the other until they finished. Other nights, if they had the energy, Jon would press inside Robb and wouldn't stop unless he asked him to. And it was rare he asked him to stop. Out of the many nights they'd spent together, he'd only asked once and that was the first time they'd tried. Even then, they had still got on with it and finished it. Jon had commended Robb for that, he had said to merely get it over with quickly and, when he had finally pushed fully inside Robb, he leaned over Robb's back and pressed kisses to the back of his neck.

That night as he laid in bed he thought back to the day when Robb had begged him not to go to the Wall. The pleading look in his eyes as he asked him and tried to convince him not to leave Winterfell for the Wall. He wondered if Robb felt for him or if it had merely been brotherly love and caring.

Now he looked back at on that night. Jon cursed himself for even thinking about that, for letting himself feel that and continue to feel it now. He stood in front of those flames still, until his skin burned and he quickly dropped the fur to the floor. His hands blindly searched for sand and he threw a handful onto the fire, putting it out and, it seemed, the heat drained from the room instantly. His skin was pulled tight and goosebumps rose as he struggled to get the fur around himself again, saving what little warmth he could.

Making quick his journey, he set out for Robb's room seeking the warmth, and pleasure, he found there. Jon's eyes flitted around the hall, hoping no one would spot him. He stared at the heavy oak door that seperated Robb and himself. Jon knew that on the other side of it, the latch was left undone as it was every night, a silent invitation. Jon opened the door, stepping in quickly and he looked to Robb, sleeping peacefully in bed. His auburn curls were a tangled mess on his head and he laid completely wrapped, cocooned in his furs.

Knowing what was to come, heat already spread through his body. The sudden heat surging through Jon's body caused his skin to prickle more with goosepimples. Cold air singed off the edge of the arousal, not yet letting it fill Jon's body. Jon walked over, draping his fur over the bed, and he pulled the blanket from beneath Robb. Robb rolled over, shivering from the sudden cold air and he mumbled incoherently. Jon slid into the bed behind him, his arms wrapping around Robb and a hand instantly between his legs. He stiffened, his back straightening and he roused more, a hand reaching down to grab at Jon's hand, but not pulling it away.

"Robb." Jon murmured into his neck, his tongue darting out to lick up that little spot behind his ear. Still half asleep, Robb whimpers, the sensation so powerful he was just short of moaning. Jon palmed his cock through his breeches, fingers playing with the ties absently. Again, Robb's hand reached down, pushing his hand aside and undoing the ties quickly and he turned to face Jon, doing the same to him. Before pushing their clothing away, Jon leaned forward, capturing Robb's lips and teasing his tongue inside his mouth. In that moment, the only thing that existed were the taste of his mouth, his tongue as it tentatively joined in the kiss, his leg over Jon's hip urging him forward. When Robb finally pressed his hips to Jon, it were as if he were trying to press inside his body until they were rendered as one, literally attached at the hip. The mewls that climb up Robb's throat encourage Jon to surge forward harder, rubbing and rolling his hips into the other and joining him in grunting and groaning, the sounds he made rivaling Robb's and covering them up.

Robb's breathing increased, stuttering, and as if his breathing wasn't heavy enough, Jon brought a hand between them and wrapped it around both of their cocks. Now they thrust against the other, cloaked in the warmth of Jon's hand that kept them tightly pressed together. Jon's free hand rested on Robb's thigh, moving only to push two fingers into his mouth and then press inside him and work him open.

Jon saw Robb's face change, at first, it pinched and then fell slack. It was always this way, no matter how many times they did this; Robb's face would pinch, in a perfect mixture of pain and pleasure, then it would fall lax as he was pleasurably opened up by Jon. Yet Robb knew it was nothing compared to what was to come. At the third finger, he cried out, muffling it by biting into a fur; his face pinched in pleasure, his hips thrusting forward more until Jon's hand left their cocks. Robb let out the most pitiful mewl, causing Jon to groan in response. Still stretching him, Jon moved to be between his legs, pressing them both up to his chest and then leaning down to kiss him and muffle his whines. 

"Please." Robb begged, once pulling away from the kiss, but then missed the taste of Jon's mouth. Jon leaned down kissing along his neck and then nipping marks on his shoulder. He spat into his palm, pumping his cock quickly and then replaced his fingers. Robb gasped, biting down harshly on his bottom lip until it bled. When Jon leaned down and kissed him he could taste the metallic of his blood on his tongue and he sucked lightly at his bottom lip. 

After a moment, Robb began touching any part of Jon's body he could reach, grabbing and trying to get a grip on something real. His jaw fell slack in a soundless gape. The only sounds in the room, were Jon's grunts, the slap of wet skin, and, finally, a strangled cry from Robb. Jon knew if he could stay in this moment forever, he would never grow tired of it. If he could stay cloaked in the tight, warmth forever, he'd be happy. Though he knew that was not possible. They would have this moment and then he would disappear before the guards and children began wandering the corridors. 

"Gods, Robb." He grunted, rolling his hips effortlessly into Robb's. Pleasure flooded his senses and he felt nothing else, it was a feeling so hard to describe. The feeling was so strong and so desirable he wished never to leave him, to always be inside him and pleasuring him as well as himself. Robb felt no way to describe the feeling Jon gave to him. It was a powerful and deep filling, to his throat or so it seemed. Moans forced their way up even if he did not allow them to leave his mouth, they stuck in his throat forming a lump and making it harder for him to breath. His throat was scratched by the grunts that he could not hold back, his panting cut off by sharply pitched whimpers.

Jon bowed his head, kissing his neck and licking and teasing at veins and pulse points, baring his teeth against his neck and leaving a dark mark. Robb, he knew, would be mad about that later. Just in knowing that it caused him to smile and chuckle and Robb blushed assuming he was laughing at him. Jon leaned down and he kissed him. It was not entirely rough, though not nearly as playful as he had intended. The smiles and shared laughter was soon away as Jon's thrusts became harder, pressing in deep and Robb grasped at the bedsheets. Above Robb, Jon's face contorted, eyes pinching and his mouth falling open only for him to clench his jaw tightly. He grunted, pushing forward into Robb harder, causing him to groan and moan, body writhing beneath Jon.

Robb felt, heard, and saw Jon climax. His mouth fell open, eyes squeezing shut and deep, strained groans forced up his throat, though he could scarcely breathe. The thrusts became sloppy and unpracticed, the sound of slapping skin becoming louder and more wet. For a moment, Jon lay forward atop Robb, catching his breath and peppering kisses across Robb's chest. Having his cock trapped between Jon's abdomen and his own, he mewled and pushed his hips up against Jon's. "Patience, Stark." He teased, pushing himself to lay beside Robb. A hand reached over and wrapped around Robb, pumping up his length and a finger rubbing beneath the tip. Robb bucked up into his hand, moaning wildly and whispering his name. He leaned over, his face in Jon's neck and lips on his skin, marks being nipped and sucked. Jon's hand tightened around his cock, giving him strong and tight strokes up. Breath caught in Robb's throat, forming larger around the lump that remained as he struggled to be quiet. After the first few waves of his pleasure, he moaned, a feeling of utter relaxation fell over him. 

Thinking nothing of it, Jon moved to hover Robb and he trailed his tongue over Robb's chest, licking away the white lines painted across his chest. When he had cleaned it all away, he fell down beside Robb and curled around him, his head on the other man's chest. After Jon settled his head on Robb's chest, he wrapped his arms around him, pressing a kiss into his dark hair. 

"Would it be wrong to say I love you?" Jon asked quietly, almost shyly. From below his lashes, he looked up to Robb and waited for his reply. 

Robb thought hard, though not on his question, mostly on why he would think it was wrong. Again he tilted his head down and he pressed a kiss into his mop of curly black hair, a hand reaching up to stroke through it. "No, Jon, it is not." He assured him. Yet somehow he was will sad; he did not say he loved him, he only asked if it would be wrong. It would not count until he looked him deep in the eyes and confessed it to him.

**Author's Note:**

> Please, leave feedback. The good, the bad, and the ugly.


End file.
